New Beginnings
by xXxHaleyxXx
Summary: This story's about Francis and his Son Matthew who moves into a home beside Arthur and his son Alfred. Matthew has selective mutism and has for years. Will Alfred finally get him to speak? Will their budding romance grow? And what about the parents? Do they approve, or do they disagree because of their own budding romance? {{FrUk/AmeCan - Human!Au - Rating may change to M!}}


**Hey Everyone!**

**This is my disclaimer... I DO NOT OWN HETALIA.**

**Even if I wish I did.**

**Happy Reading!**

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**Chapter One: **

**Moving in**

**_~~Francis~~_**

"That's the last box, Mattieu!" Francis said loudly, accent thick making the boys name sound a bit odd, to the retreating back of his son, before letting a relieved sigh and leaning back against the truck.

Francis, a 38 year old Frenchman from France, and his son Matthew, a 16 year old teen born in Canada, moved from their old home in Canada to {Insert City Name} in the US. Their old lives in Canada weren't the best, despite trying to make it better. Family tragedy, bullying and not very much income made for a rather sucky life. It took a few years after a certain _incident_ that happened for Francis to save up enough money to move him and his son out of the horrible town.

Now, here they were – starting a new life. No one knew them here, and they were happy with that. It also meant no one knew what had happened, so it would stop with the pitiful looks that would always be sent towards Francis and Matthew – when Matthew wasn't being bullied that is.

They hoped it really would be a new life. No more bullying, no more living pay-check to pay-check… none of that. Luckily, due to Francis' amazing cooking skills he scored the job as an executive chef at a new restaurant that just finished being built. He had signed up for Matthew to go to this semi-private school, called "Hetalia High". He thought the name was odd, but he said there wasn't too much bullying… but then again – most schools did. He figured it being semi-private the bullying might be a little better, as in there being less… he just hoped he wasn't making a mistake.

Francis sighed as he walked over to a stack of boxes and looked around, calling for his son. "These boxes all belong in your room. Would you like help bringing them up?" He asked with a small smile, to which his son shook his head too. Sighing he took the first box anyway and stared at him. "If you need help, I'll be unpacking my room." He said, giving Matthew the first box before heading off.

Doing as he said, Francis headed to his room and opened all his boxes. He didn't have very many, compared to his son due to the fact he liked a organized bedroom – able to find what he needed when he needed it. He put two of the 5 boxes in front of his dresser, two in front of the closet and the last one on his bed. He had a lot of clothes, which he would admit – he liked knowing he had clothing for every occasion that could happen. The extra box sitting on his bed had belts and a couple knickknacks and such that he'd place around his room, a few paintings he used to have in his old room, and one of those wall decals. Might as well start putting things away… He walked around the home for a moment and found one of the bags with the hangers in it, and went back to his room before he started sorting things and putting them where they belonged.

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**_~~Matthew~~_**

Sighing as he took the box from his father he watched him climb the stairs. How he wished he would've said 'Shout if you need me' instead of saying where he'd be. I guess that's what you get for being a Selective Mute… Yes, that's right – Matthew had selective mutisim and couldn't speak when he knew he could be heard, or when there other people around.

Once his father was out of sight he started grumbling to himself and heading to his room. He wasn't an unhappy person, or usually grumpy – but he hated moving. He was happy they were leaving, but unpacking and moving boxes was tiring.

He was excited for school to start, despite not being able to talk. He hoped it would be different this year: that he'd make friends, wouldn't be bullied and would have understanding teachers… maybe even have a 'hero' saving him when he was to get in trouble! That was all of a fairy-tail though; he knew it wouldn't happen… even if he wished for at least some friends anyway.

Lost in that train of thought he looked at the spot the previous stack of boxes used to be, and laughed at himself… he hadn't even realized! "Hm… Easier than I thought." He mumbled to himself quietly and headed back up to his room. Once there he plopped down onto the already made bed, although he didn't put any sheets on it yet. He looked around as his pile of boxes. Did he really need to unpack _now_? All he wanted to do was have a nap, or go outside, or something other than this.

Sighing, he pushed himself up and started to put everything where they belonged quietly, before plugging in his radio and putting it on. Sighing at the fact that it wasn't too quiet now he worked a bit quicker, putting his clothing away and his Hockey Jerseys and other mementoes he brought from Canada and put them around the room, and hung an old flag in the bag of his closet. Smiling at the fact he was able to put his room all up in less than an hour he walked over to his father's room and peeked in, rolling his eyes at the fact he was still putting clothing away.

Looking around his room one last time he noticed the scrapbook he had laid on his bed and forgot to put away. Smiling he took hold of it and set it on the bed-side table, before putting his hands on his hips – despite the oddness of it, and smiled in accomplishment. Looking down at himself he noticed how skinny he's gotten due to the stress of moving as well as the last minute bullying that went on when they heard he was moving. Sliding down the stairs' railing he walked into the kitchen and grabbed an Apple from the counter – having made his father get groceries before they brought the boxes in and took a bit bite. Looking around the kitchen he made a face and decided he'd let his dad unpack this room and went out onto the porch, sitting on the railing – even if it's not overly safe, while he ate.


End file.
